Luck
by Poptart Demon
Summary: She just wants a pet, is all. Possible HarleyXJon


**Author's Notes: Just trying to get back into the swing of things and this little number occurred to me making an English muffin this morn. Keep smiling. :)**

The rain was a steady thing outside the windows, pattering against the walls and doors and muffling the sounds of the outside world. Within the modest home, there were three noises in total: the steady ticking of a typewriter, the author's breathing, and the whining of the woman who had taken residence on his sofa. The whining was not necessarily words, though those came in quick bursts that grated against his nerves as he typed. It was the sighing, almost constant and needy from her, how she rolled back and forth on the cushions, at first on her back, then to her stomach, several times more until her current position: one leg draped over the back of the couch, one curled up against her, her arms flung in opposite directions, her head dangling towards the floor so her pigtails gathered there.

His most recent experiment had not entirely been a grand one, but the results were nevertheless fascinating, and he took down every note, every word uttered in that room of horrors, his domain. His fingers were precise, even at first, simply recording his writing, but they steadily grew faster, faster, flying over the keys as quickly as they might let him, reliving those moments and-

"_Jon_ny," she mewled, pathetic and insistent, and it broke his thoughts, leaving him grasping at something but finding nothing. He grit his teeth, ever so slightly, a tightening in his sharp jaw, and he turned his chair so that he might look at the wretched being. Her lower lip was protruding like a bull dog, blue eyes wide and focused upon him, the brows furrowed deeply. She was trying to look cute. "can I have a pet?"

The question struck him, off-guard to such a request. "You have Bud and Lou." He gestured upstairs, where the mangy creatures were likely napping upon her bed.

"No, I mean, I dunno, a kitty or somethin'." She clarified as if he were a child. It might have been amusing if it weren't so... unamusing at this moment. "Mistah J would never let me have one."

"With good reason." He assured, imaging what the clown might have done with something so small and fragile and clearly dear to the harlequin as a puppy or kitten might have been. At least Bud and Lou were large, frightening (if you were not their mistress, at least.)

"Oh c'_mon_ Jonny!" She pleaded, rolling over to look at him more clearly. "I'm not bringin' in anythin' big, just a little one! I'll take really good care of it, I promise! Besides, I could see you with a little black cat runnin' around."

"Precisely what I need. Bad luck."

"I thought you didn't believe in bad luck," she returned coyly, as if she had caught him admitting to some deep, dark secret. The discussion brought to mind those wretched shows of the perfect American family, the child begging for the responsibility of a new dog or some such. It was irritating. "If you'd just look at 'im-"

"Look?" Both brows raised as she quickly wriggled off the sofa, rolling to her feet, and dashed up the stairs. Look at him? She already had the vile thing within his home? Surely not. Surely she would not be so fooli- yes. Yes she would.

He could feel the headache building behind his eyes already, removing his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose in a vain attempt to ward it off. But his headache was already (by the sound of her nimble feet) returning to him, drawing close, and stopping just short of him. He sat up and was greeted by a tiny, black feline in her hands, dangling with a look of confusion, if it could have one. He stared.

"Isn't he _precious_?" She cooed.

It would get left behind. It would escape out the door she carelessly left open one night, a window, a broken window where the Batman crashed through, and out onto the streets to be struck by a car, shot by a thug, devoured by dogs. She would forget to feed it. She would get bored of it. He would not care for the tiny thing.

The creature, with it's minute padded paws, reached out to bat at his nose and she nearly melted.

It would, however, serve to keep Harleen occupied for periods of time.


End file.
